


Just Desserts

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-02
Updated: 2006-04-02
Packaged: 2018-08-16 00:11:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8079313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: A game and a bet between Reed and Tucker. (09/19/2002)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Response to kageygirl's 4000-post challenge. Author's first fic posted to the EntSTSlash list.  


* * *

"I'm telling you, they're going to do it tonight."

Elizabeth Cutler shook her head at her dinner companion. "Come on, Travis. That rumor has been floating around practically since we left spacedock! The Captain is not going to let Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker do it."

"I'm not sure that anyone could stop those two once they get started," the navigator replied.

"Seriously," Hoshi added. "You should have heard the two of them on the bridge when the Captain and the Sub-Commander weren't around. It's..." she shrugged, raising her hands in defeat as words in her native language defeated her.

"Weird," Travis said. "That's what it is. I mean, come on! It's all they talk about."

Hoshi nudged Travis. "Look!"

All three turned to watch Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed as they entered the mess hall, smirks on their faces. They ignored the rest of the crew and sat at a corner table with their meals, arguing passionately and laughing evilly.

Hoshi shook her head. "I swear, they'll be lucky to keep their commissions if Starfleet finds out about what they're doing."

Conversation turned after a while, but the volume in the mess hall dropped as soon as Commander Tucker got up and headed for the door.

"Yer ass is mine tonight, Lootennant," he drawled without looking back.

Lieutenant Reed merely chuckled. "Help, I'm being repressed," he tossed out.

Tucker stopped and turned to glare at him. "Oh, you think funny lines are gonna help ya when I'm wiping the floor with ya?"

Reed smiled even more. "Oo, come and see the violence inherent in the system."

Tucker threw up his hands and stalked out of the mess hall, leaving a smirking Reed in his wake. The armory officer cleared his own dishes and started out of the hall, stopping by a few tables to say hello.

"Ensigns, Crewman. Any of you planning on attending tonight's festivities?"

"I can't believe you think you're going to get away with it," Hoshi replied.

Reed chuckled. "I don't think we will at all. In fact, I'm counting on the fact that we won't, so Commander Tucker can't charm his way out of the consequences," he said cryptically as he nodded at them and left the hall.

"Okay, now I think I have to watch," Travis said, staring after the man.

Liz and Hoshi nodded in agreement.

* * *

"Bloody hell!"

Trip's laughter at Malcolm's curse greeted Captain Archer's ears as he slipped into the cargo bay. He'd known Trip and Malcolm were planning something, and given the general lack of off duty crew roaming the halls, he had guessed it to be tonight.

Finding a place along the crowded railing, he leaned forward. "Who's winning?"

Hoshi jumped and turned. "Captain, ah, uh..."

"Who's winning?" he asked again with a smile to show her he wasn't upset.

"If I understand the game correctly, Lieutenant Reed has a one point lead."

Archer turned to see T'Pol standing next to him. "Sub-Commander, somehow I didn't think this would be your game."

"I thought it would be best to have a more senior officer present in case this—game—needed to be halted."

"I see."

"Run away, run away!" Malcolm called out as he stalked Trip. The older man was darting behind cargo containers, his sweatpants and t-shirt covered with multi-color splotches. Malcolm's own sweats and shirt had splotches, and he was holding a gray ball in his hand.

"Gawd, I'm startin' ta hate that movie," Tucker complained as he slipped around another cargo container and lunged at the armory officer. Unfortunately for him, Malcolm had seen him coming and twisted out of the way as he threw the ball at Trip, catching the other man square in the chest with a burst of magenta.

"Score!"

Archer looked around to see who had shouted. Movement caught his eye and he saw Trip toss the ball to a crewman, who fiddled with something on it and tossed it back to the engineer. Malcolm immediately dove low for Trip's legs, catching the man unaware and knocking him down. The ball rolled free as the two wrestled before Trip managed get loose and scramble after it. Malcolm took the opportunity to disappear into the shadows.

"What are they playing again?"

"No rules dodge ball, Captain," Travis replied as Trip began taunting Malcolm with slurs on the man's British heritage.

"No rules?"

"None. We don't even know how they determine when the game's over. All we know is they have a 'gentleman's agreement' to allow Crewman Cartman to re-set the color after every score."

"Givin' up, Mal?" Tucker called out.

"Never give up, never surrender!" the Brit's voice called.

Tucker darted in the direction of the voice, to find himself tackled from the side, the two men grappling for control of the gray sphere.

"I know what you really want, Mal..."

"Oh?"

"A shrubbery!" Tucker crowed as he managed to bop Malcolm hard enough to trigger the color mechanism, covering the younger man's face in shocking neon green.

Crewman Cartman came in to reset the mechanism and Captain Archer headed for the stairs. "There is only one way to end this."

"Captain?" T'Pol asked.

Archer stopped in the middle of the stairs. "Gentleman...." he paused as Tucker and Reed turned, wary expressions on their faces. "Ni!"

Reed doubled over in laughter as Tucker covered his ears and groaned. "No, not you too Cap'n!"

"Afraid so, Trip. I'm calling a halt to this game before I have to explain to Starfleet an incident involving two of my senior staff, a dodge ball, and a crate of power couplings."

Crewman Cartman tossed the ball to the captain, who caught it neatly. "T'Pol, who won?" Archer asked.

"Lieutenant Reed scored one more hit overall than Commander Tucker."

Archer turned back. "So what was the bet?"

Trip was shaking his head. "Yer not really goin' ta hold me to that, Malcolm?"

Malcolm raised one green and black eyebrow. "A bet is a bet, Commander. You wouldn't want to welch on it in front of the junior officers, enlisted crewmembers, and the captain, now would you?"

Tucker sighed. "Cap'n?" he asked pleadingly.

"Sorry, Trip, but Malcolm's right."

Crewman Cartman came forward with a covered plate. "Commander Tucker, your dessert."

Malcolm reached forward to lift the lid. "Allow me," he said with a smirk.

"What the hell is that?"

"Resequenced crow, sir. As in, 'Commander Tucker, if I win, you have to eat crow.'"

Archer shuddered as Trip picked up the fork, looking like he'd rather stab himself with it than make good on his bet. Unfortunately, with what seemed like the entire crew watching from the gallery, he had to do it.

Seeing the look on Tucker's face as the man swallowed the unappetizing concoction, Archer shuddered. "Malcolm," he said, "remind me not to challenge you to anything any time soon."

"Will do, sir."

* * *

Trip brushed his teeth for the fifth time that night, unable to get the taste of his 'dessert' out of his mouth. Eating crow was bad enough, but resequenced...he shuddered.

Walking out of the small bathroom, his door chimed. "Come in," he called with a sigh, wondering who the hell was bothering him at this hour. He vaguely wondered if he should pull on a shirt, then decided hell with it. It was probably just the captain.

To Trip's surprise, Malcolm Reed walked in with a bowl in his hand. Trip stared. "Is that what Ah think it is?"

Malcolm smiled at the lust in the man's blue eyes. "Yes, a triple chocolate brownie fudge sundae. Nothing resequenced, and I'm not asking Chef where he managed to get all of this." He set the bowl down on the table. "Chef informed me that you needed a proper dessert, and I told him of the other half of our bet."

Trip looked up from where he was already digging into the sweet. "Chef actually let you inta his domain ta make this?"

"Oh, he watched me like a hawk the entire time," Malcolm said, settling on the edge of the bed to watch Trip eat. "And he refused to let me see where he kept the ingredients, but yes, I made it myself."

"Damn good, Mal." Trip was already halfway through his desert. Silence prevailed until Trip scraped the bottom of the bowl with his spoon to catch the last of the ice cream.

"Gawd, that was good."

Malcolm smiled, getting up and approaching the table. "You know," he murmured, "It's not fair that you've had two desserts tonight and I haven't had any."

"We might hafta do something about that," Trip drawled, the lust in his eyes all for the armory officer now.

Malcolm picked something off the table as he straddled Trip's thighs. "I know just what I want."

"What's that?"

Malcolm ran the cherry from the sundae down Trip's chest. "Trip Tucker with a cherry on top," he whispered before claiming his lover's mouth.


End file.
